


Last Minute Invitation

by GoldenSlumbers



Category: Demi Lovato (Musician), X Factor RPF
Genre: F/M, X Factor USA 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenSlumbers/pseuds/GoldenSlumbers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demi invites Simon to her New Year's Eve party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Minute Invitation

Simon Cowell does not like to give out his phone number. He finds it excruciating to converse with most people face-to-face, and phone calls only enhance his agony by a factor of a thousand. But when Demi Lovato calls? Multiply that by a million.

"You just had to disturb me while I'm on holiday, didn't you?"

"While you're on what?"

He can almost see her snickering on the other end of the line. He sighs. "Holiday."

"Vacation," Demi corrects him with a giggle.

"Very clever, very original. I'm going to hang up now."

"What! No! I have to ask you something."

"You are incredibly whiny," Simon replies.

"But that's why you love me, remember?"

He's grateful she can't see him smiling. "Go on, then."

"I wanted to invite you to my New Year's Eve party," Demi says.

Well, that was unexpected. He laughs. "Seriously?"

"Yes!" she says. "Come on. You'll have fun. Or I will, at your expense," she laughs.

"Who's going to be there? Your friends?"

"Um, of course my friends," she says, like it's a stupid question, which it is.

Simon shakes his head. She's so exasperating sometimes. "What I mean is, you're having a party for your friends, and you want _me_ there because…?"

"I thought you might like to chaperone," Demi quips.

"Ha, ha," he says. "You don't need me for that."

"Just come," she says.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, darling, but you'll have to find someone else to keep your party under control. I have plans that evening."

Demi's not sure whether to believe him. "You do not."

"I do. I'm incredibly in demand," he adds.

"Now _that_ is definitely a lie."

"You know, you shouldn't invite all your guests at the last minute, Demi. I think most people already made their plans."

She can't help but grin at the way he sets her up so perfectly. "Oh, don't worry, Simon. I didn't invite everyone last minute. Just you."

He laughs. "Have a happy new year."

"Enjoy the rest of your _vacation_ ," she replies, ending the call.

Hours later, he realizes he's still smiling.

\--

It's almost midnight and Demi watches her friends on the dance floor. She's enjoying herself – truly, she is – this is the happiest she's felt in years, certainly. But at the moment, it's not enough.

She catches herself scanning the room occasionally, feeling like an idiot every time. This is so stupid, honestly. He said he wouldn't come. He was just one out of a hundred guests that she invited, and nearly everyone else was here, so what difference did it make? Still, she can't help feeling irrationally annoyed. She's positive that he lied about having other plans. Seriously, who would want Simon at a party? She can just picture him making snide comments about everything from the food to the DJ to the outfits of the guests. God, he's _such_ an ass, even when she's only imagining him. Whatever, she's over it.

Demi stands atop the makeshift stage at the edge of the dance floor with a microphone in her hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're only a minute away from 2013. Let's start the countdown!"

Suddenly, it's chaos. Confetti is flying, noisemakers are going off, and Demi is nearly crushed by her friends' varied and creative displays of affection. There's about a ten-second reprieve when she has a moment to look around and take it all in.

That's when she sees him. He gives a tiny wave. He looks sheepish, for once. She has never seen him sheepish.

Somehow, they make their way toward each other, weaving through the crowd. They embrace, and Demi grins at him smugly. "Well, well, well. Look who decided to come after all."

"I was worried," Simon replies. "I thought no one would show up."

Demi rolls her eyes. "Please. You were lonely. You missed me."

"Really, Demi, I'm serious. I just kept thinking how awful it must be for you to ring in the new year alone."

"Oh, right. Of course." He's such an ass, seriously. She can't stop smiling.

"I have to admit, I was wrong."

"You _admit_ it? Who _are_ you?" Her eyes widen. "Oh no. I read about this. I'm pretty sure this is how it starts."

"Excuse me?"

Demi looks at him seriously. "I think you might be showing signs of early-onset dementia."

"Very funny."

"I mean, you're actually being almost nice."

Simon sighs and looks around the room. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Absolutely not." She links her arm through his, beaming at him. "Dance with me?"

"Absolutely not!"

But he does, anyway.

\--

It's sometime around three a.m. and Simon doesn't know how it got to be this late. Demi hasn't left his side since he arrived, and it's not that he doesn't enjoy her attention. He just doesn't understand why she's so willing to give it.

"I should go," he declares. It's less a desire and more a statement of fact.

"No!" Demi clutches his arm. "It's so early still."

"You're joking, right? Half the guests are gone."

"But you can't leave yet… oh!" She grins. "I almost forgot. I have to show you something."

Simon raises an eyebrow. "Is this a trick?"

"Come with me," she says, taking his hand. He follows her without thinking. She leads him upstairs and down a hallway, and opens a door. It's her bedroom.

About a thousand thoughts run through his mind. He says nothing. Instead, he glances around the room. It's modern, sophisticated, and not nearly as feminine as he thought it would be – not that he's ever thought about what her bedroom would look like.

Demi disappears into her closet and emerges a few seconds later, clutching a picture frame to her chest. "Okay, prepare to have your mind blown."

She flips it around and it's a photograph of her when she's young, not more than ten years old, smiling with pride while standing next to the television set. Simon's face fills the TV beside her.

"Wow." He can't think of anything else to say.

"I know, right? My mom found this and gave it to me after you asked me to be on the show."

Simon looks at her and smirks. "Demi, I think what you're trying to say is… I made all of your childhood dreams come true."

"Yeah, you wish." She puts the photo down and rotates her shoulders, wincing slightly. "I can't believe how uncomfortable this dress is." Demi turns, her back facing him. "Unzip me?"

Simon complies with a small chuckle. "What would someone think if they saw us right now?"

She flashes him a devilish grin. "I stopped caring what people think of me a long time ago."

"Whatever you say, darling."

She kicks off her shoes and steps away from him, sitting at the foot of her bed. The top of her dress is drooping around her shoulders, her hair is a mess, and she's beautiful. Simon can't look away. She pats the mattress beside her, making small circles with her hand.

"You are quite the charmer," Simon says with a smile. He doesn't move.

"Sit with me." She sounds so innocent, but her eyes say something else.

Simon folds his arms across his chest. "Miss Lovato, are you trying to seduce me?" It's meant to be joke, but it clearly isn't. Even as the words leave his mouth, he's aware that his heart should not be pounding this hard.

"Just come here," she says, reaching for his hand and pulling him toward her. He stumbles forward as if in a trance, as if he doesn't know what's about to happen, except he's knows exactly what will happen.

And then it does.

She leans in close.

"Demi," he breathes, as she presses her lips to his. Instinctively, he pulls away.

She giggles. "Relax," she says, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

Simon takes both her hands and holds them in his. "You don't want to do this," he says, holding her gaze. "Trust me."

"No, I do." Her cheeks are flushed and her voice is low. "I want you."

She's so forward that it leaves him temporarily stunned. When he finally speaks, his voice is as low as hers.

"I am, without a doubt, the most arrogant man in the world." He looks at her seriously. "Yet even I am not arrogant enough to believe you really mean that."

"But I do," she insists.

"No. You haven't thought this through."

Her face is bright red; she's angry now. "I know what I want, Simon. And I know you want this too! You followed me up here! What did you think would happen, that you'd tuck me in and read me a bedtime story? I'm not a little girl," she nearly shouts, like she's trying to prove it more to herself than to him.

Simon blinks. "I know," he says finally. She's staring at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He sighs. "You're right."

"About which part?" she demands.

He swallows hard. "All of it."

Her features soften. "Okay," she murmurs, stroking the inside of his palm. "So what's the problem?"

"You don't want _me._ "

"But I just told you—"

"You want someone who's going to challenge you, and look out for you, and take care of you, and make you feel like the most incredible woman on earth—which you are. But that person isn't me." She opens her mouth to interject, but he continues. "I can't be responsible for something you're only going to regret, maybe not tomorrow, or a month from now, or a year from now—"

"You don't _know_ that," Demi says, wishing she could mask the desperation in her voice, hating that he's right. He's always right.

"You would," Simon says. "Eventually, you would. And I'd never forgive myself."

Demi shakes her head, blinking back tears. He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"So this is how it ends?" she asks in a tiny voice.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart."

She expects him to get up and leave, but he doesn't, not right away. Not that it matters. He's already gone.

\--

Her phone rings a few days later, and the screen lights up with his name, filling her with dread. She contemplates not picking up, but at the last minute, she changes her mind.

"Hey," she says carefully.

"Hello."

There's a long pause, and then they're both talking at once.

"I don't want you to think—"

"I don't—"

"I just never thought—"

"Simon, we don't have to talk about this."

"Okay." He sounds relieved.

"It didn't mean anything, anyway."

"Right," he says. Now he sounds confused.

"I always do something stupid on New Year's Eve. It's kind of a tradition."

"Oh… well, thanks for including me," he says flatly. They don't discuss it any further.

"So what's up?" she asks, sounding like she's bored of him already. God, she's maddening.

"The network wants you to come back to the show next season," he says matter-of-factly, all business.

There's a pause. "The _network_ wants me back?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, tell the network that I'm not interested."

"Come on. I don't want to do the show without you."

"I don't believe you," she says. He can't tell if she's kidding or not.

"Demi, honestly. Do I have to beg?"

"Yes."

"You know I want you," he says seriously.

She wishes he meant it in a different context.

"Well…" There's a long, excruciating pause. "Fine. I guess." There's a beat, and then: "Do I still have to sit next to you?"

He laughs. "God, I hope not." And then she starts laughing too.

He'll never admit it, but it's his favorite sound in the world.


End file.
